


For What It's Worth

by itallstartedwithdefenestration



Category: Thrill Me: The Leopold & Loeb Story - Dolginoff
Genre: First Time, M/M, train car sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 00:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11391480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itallstartedwithdefenestration/pseuds/itallstartedwithdefenestration
Summary: "It was the first time in a berth, and it was when Leopold had this first experience with his penis between Loeb's legs."The first implementation of Nathan's side of the contract, in the train on the way to Charlevoix.





	For What It's Worth

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song by buffalo springfield, which doesn't exactly fit this but it was what was playing when i was trying to think of a title, so it's good enough for me 
> 
> quote in the summary from hal higdon's masterpiece _leopold & loeb: the crime of the century_

The train car is rattling and shaking and Nathan finds quickly that it is only by gripping the bar of the bunk closest to the wall with one hand and the side of the bed which moves upward to prevent falling out with the other, while simultaneously bracing one foot against the wall behind him, that he is able to stay balanced while draped over Richard. Though indeed this slightly uncomfortable position is well worth it for the sight of Richard beneath him tousled and flushed and out of his element in a way that goes beyond their usual trysts. He looks in fact a little bit nervous though Nathan even in this situation knows better than to point something like that out. 

“I’ve sucked you off before,” Nathan reminds him. “And you’ve done the same for me.”

Richard frowns up at him. “Well, we didn’t like it,” he says, watching at Nathan’s face and then at the way he grips the bed with both hands. His knuckles are white and tense and he wonders if perhaps they should’ve stayed on the lower bunk. 

“You like kissing all right,” Nathan says, and hopes it doesn’t sound too much like the question it really is.

Richard snorts. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s all right.” Which means that it’s good, and Richard is done with this game, or he will be very soon if Nathan doesn’t lay off questioning. 

Nathan exhales. For a moment tempted to bury his face against the side of Richard’s neck but they’re already halfway to Charlevoix and Richard is only half-hard against his thigh under him in the shaking bunk of the rattling car with the world whipping past their eyes and no light but the sun to show Nathan where he is, what he’s doing—

“Have you ever fucked a man before?” Richard asks after what feels like several hours. 

“No,” Nathan says, reaching between them to undo the opening in his fly. 

“Huh, that makes two of us,” Richard mumbles into his arm which he has reached up from somewhere unseen to press over his mouth. He looks more nervous than he did and Nathan wonders if he should’ve lied but then again Richard probably would’ve realized it quickly. For all that Richard lies to others on a near-constant basis he is quite surprisingly apt at figuring out when he’s being lied to. Therefore Nathan has tried very hard not to ever lie to Richard—hence the contract, hence his agreement to crimes he would’ve never deigned himself to commit otherwise, hence the two of them laying in this bunk now with their bodies flush against each other and sweaty and shaking with the train and twenty dollars’ worth of stolen money from their cheated bridge game in their discarded pants pockets. 

_Help me devise a system for cheating, and I’ll let you fuck me in our compartment,_ Richard had whispered to him when they’d first boarded and stood alone in the hallway. Nathan wonders now if perhaps Richard had not actually expected the whole thing to work. 

Well, too bad. Richard has played at being drunk for him before, at being helpless and unable to consent. This is almost the same thing except it’s really going to happen, they aren’t just simulating, and Nathan is every bit as terrified as Richard. 

“Hang on,” Nathan says. By pushing up slightly with his foot and swinging his leg and edging both hands down inch by inch he is able to get off the bunk with relative ease. He aches in his muscles and in other places as he reaches for the lube in his pants and Richard, watching him, smirks:

“Looks like at least one of us is ready for this.”

Nathan looks down at himself, cock pressed against his stomach from where his underwear are mostly off, and rolls his eyes. “You know you’re free to leave anytime you like. I’m not an asshole, I’m not going to force you into this.”

“The contract,” Richard says. His voice is weirdly flat and when Nathan, straightening up from his pants, glances over, Richard is not watching him but rather staring up at the ceiling, tracing the water stains with his eyes. 

“Fuck the contract,” Nathan says, walking back over and hoisting himself up, sitting slightly hunched in at the shoulders without laying back down. “There’s other things we can do together for the crime that aren’t sex—”

“Like what?” Richard asks. Nathan’s pretty sure it was meant to be sarcastic, but it comes out hopeful, and he sighs. Palms himself. 

“Kissing, for one,” he says. 

“Oh, great. Yeah. So you can stick your tongue down my throat and choke me before we see the estate.”

“Quit making references to your money, it won’t impress me. I have just as much as you do.” Nathan drags his palms down his thighs. He feels a little ridiculous sitting here mostly naked with the lights off and Richard in a similar state below like a trussed pig that refuses to be eaten. “Anyway I thought you said you enjoy kissing me.”

“I never did,” Richard snaps. He only ever gets short and irritable with Nathan when he’s backed into a corner and can’t convincingly lie his way out of it. Often Nathan wonders if the contract should have included a truth clause because Richard lies to him almost compulsively yet Nathan sees through it almost every single time. 

“Okay, then, what do you want, Richard?”

Richard glares at him. Somehow he’s even more flushed than before. A strong welling of something not entirely kind floods Nathan’s chest; he thinks of pushing Richard down further into the mattress, perhaps even flipping him and forcing him on his stomach, shoving his legs open and just pushing in. His mouth is dry and his hands are sweating. The old fantasy— _I will rise you up to power, your majesty, and in exchange you will allow me to take you in my mouth every night. I can be as strong as your majesty desires._

“I just want you to fuck me, all right, Nathan,” Richard spits. At some point his hand found its way to Nathan’s hip and now he is gripping it tight enough to bruise. The car is shaking, or perhaps it’s just the two of them in the bunk. “I told you I’d let you fuck me because that’s what you want, and I meant it, so get fucking on with it before I change my mind.”

“Oh, as if you would,” Nathan snaps, “who the fuck else would carry out your crimes with you then?” But his cock has hardened further both from imagining the king/slave fantasy he’s long desired to carry out and from having Richard at his mercy, smug, popular, over-the-top frat boy Richard Loeb ready to do his bidding in exchange for a few petty crimes enacted and never detrimental to Nathan himself—

He says, “All right, I’ll fuck you,” and he says, “but you have to spread your legs and keep still, all right, or it’ll hurt even more.”

“I thought—” Richard grunts, spreading his legs obediently—another little thrill in Nathan’s chest—and winding a hand around the same bedpost as Nathan had moments ago, while Nathan himself struggles to resituate his body so he’s no longer sitting up but laying stretched out over Richard, braced against the wall with one foot and clutching the bed with one hand, leaving the other free to slick both of them up—“I thought you never did this. So you wouldn’t know how much it could or couldn’t hurt.”

“I know enough,” Nathan says. Maybe in the future he will tell Richard about the boys in school, before college, the boys he practiced with and fucked around with while the teachers weren’t looking. But right now it’s enough to have Richard beneath him in the shaking train car, now using both hands—bracing himself on a knee, instead—to open Richard up, to slick himself, to push forward, to—

“Ah, fuck. Jesus Christ, Nathan.” Richard’s upper lip is curled into a snarl; if he was a wild dog Nathan would’ve already been bitten, perhaps hard enough to break the skin. “Is it supposed to—”

“Relax,” Nathan says, and hoists one of Richard’s legs higher by the knee so as to gain better purchase over his body entire. By pushing back with both feet on the wall and steadying himself with his fingers in bruising grip on Richard’s shoulders and keeping Richard’s ankle at somewhat of a level with his waist he is able, in increments, with Richard hissing out sharp expletives into his ear, to get nearly all the way seated inside him. 

Once there, everything hot and tight and a little dry: “Okay?”

Richard stares up at him. “So this is sex with a man,” he says. There are fault lines in his voice. 

Nathan nods. “This is sex with a man.”

Richard breathes out. It’s slow and starts in his nose and ends up in his mouth and halfway through Nathan can no longer stand the anticipation of staring at those perfect fucking pink chapped lips and he leans down and catches Richard’s mouth in his own and kisses him still deep inside him—even with the car still rocking them steadily he can’t help reaching up from Richard’s shoulders to take his jaw in his hands and cup it like Richard is something fragile ready to break. Nathan has never in his life been inside someone he wanted to kiss nor indeed hardly been inside anyone at all and the thought makes him shiver all over first with power and then with pleasure. When he moves Richard grunts into his mouth but when he stops Richard pinches his side and bites his lower lip a little like to say keep going and as such Nathan braces himself further and reaches down with one hand to push at Richard’s bent knee and picks up a rhythm not quite consistent with the rocking of the train car. 

It isn’t like fucking a woman. In the first place Nathan stays hard, that taut tense tight feeling building steadily down his spine and across his shoulders and in his stomach and his feet and everywhere, even in his cheeks, until all his skin feels like to explode and he wants to scream but he cannot pull away from Richard’s mouth long enough. In the second place Richard does not get wet like a woman might and Nathan slips out several times such that he uses up almost all the lube just to stay slick and in Richard. And it gives him a thrill like nothing else when he’s stopped kissing him to look down and see Richard’s eyes closed and his mouth bitten in and red and almost bleeding in places and the pain slowly etching away on his face, to feel his hips shifting underneath, to feel his legs spread and his own fingers gripping at the sheets and at Nathan and to know that this thing he is doing, he is doing to Richard Loeb, he is fucking Richard, and Richard is his, and Richard is under his control—

Nathan comes gasping out something unintelligible even to himself and buries it with difficulty into Richard’s shoulder. He isn’t sure if Richard’s even still hard but when he reaches between them indeed he is mostly and Nathan—still inside him, shaking, almost crying from relief—strokes him off deftly in five or six pulls, thumb skating over the head like he knows Richard likes, biting lightly at his skin and whispering his name, though his voice is trembling. For several minutes after—Nathan isn’t sure how many—they lay at first on top of each other and then side by side, despite the size of the bunk. Nathan curled around Richard and Richard with his hand on top of Nathan’s. Little shivery breaths escaping his bitten lips. 

Afterwards, fifteen minutes to go before Charlevoix, mostly dressed now, cleaned up and spritzed both of them several times with cologne to mask the smell, they sit on the lower bunk with their knees and thighs pressed together and Nathan’s head on Richard’s shoulder. 

“So that’ll be it every time we do something illegal?” Richard asks. “Every time I make you throw a brick through a window, a couple hours later your dick’s gonna be—in my ass.”

Nathan exhales. “If you don’t like it, Richard—”

Richard lets out a sound not quite a laugh and bumps at Nathan’s head with his arm until he looks up, at which point there’s a single kiss, and then another, and Richard is smiling. Not the false smile he puts on for the world but the rare and real one Nathan sees only sometimes. 

“I could get used to it,” he says, staring first at Nathan’s mouth and then at the crotch of his pants. “With practice.”


End file.
